


Wound Dressings

by Asushunamir



Series: I've got you [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Autistic Ladybug, Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, don't let the tags fool you this is actually kinda fluffy, fight me, not directly stated but she is, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21761515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asushunamir/pseuds/Asushunamir
Summary: Even superheroes have issues. Luckily, these two have each other to lean on.(Part of a series but can be read in any order)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: I've got you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685056
Comments: 8
Kudos: 188





	Wound Dressings

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it with another vent fic, y'all. TWs for self harm(after the fact), panic attacks, and Adrien's complete lack of self-esteem.

An overwhelming feeling of worry seeps deep down into Chat's bones when his Lady lands next to him. Her arrival is… less than graceful, to put it gently. She’s barely using her arms, and the resulting reduction in mobility and balance causes her to stumble forward several steps. She grimaces, too, when her feet hit the ground, and if he had to guess, he’d say her legs are in a similar state of pain.

Luckily, it’s an easy akuma today. So easy, in fact, that he’s convinced Hawkmoth is feeling lazy and decided to phone it in. The akumatized man is dressed as an angler, and is angrily grabbing fish out of the basket on his back and hurling them at the two heroes. The air is rancid with the stench of dead fish, but other than that, it’s been a very straightforward fight. He’s been here a few minutes already, and by now he’s almost certain that the butterfly is in the man’s fishing pole, and why he’s not using that to fight instead of throwing fish around is an enigma, but he’s not about to look a gift fish in the gills. 

“Fishing pole.” He says quietly, so that only Ladybug can hear him, and she nods, a little belatedly. His anxiety shoots up a notch, but he forces himself to shove it away until the fight is over.

She forgoes using her lucky charm, instead whipping out her yo-yo to bean the man on the head, stunning him. Chat takes the opening, boots barely touching the pavement as he darts across the street, and snatches the fishing pole away. He’s snapping it across his knee before the man can even react to the theft, and a little purple butterfly flies out, hovering before his eyes. 

A part of his brain that he’s decided to label ‘Plagg’s terrible influence’ registers the flapping wings as something he should definitely chase and should probably eat. It sounds simultaneously delicious and disgusting.

...it would be just his luck if he actually did have a way to purify akuma, but one that involved eating them.

Before he can decide whether or not he should act on the cat-like impulse, Ladybug throws her yo-yo again, whipping it right past his nose to trap the akuma inside. She purifies it without comment, and when she releases it, she says a muttered version of her usual cheery, “Bye bye, little butterfly.” 

Neither of them go over to the de-akumatized man, because a few civilians -the man's family, Chat suspects- are already running forward to hug and comfort him.

Chat glances around, and sees a few reporters hanging about. No Alya, but it is the middle of the day, so she’s probably in school. Like I should be, he thinks, wryly. But right now, there are more important things to worry about than school. Mindful that they’re being broadcast on the news, he grins at Ladybug with an energy he doesn’t feel as he says, “Quick sidebar, bugaboo?”

She looks over at him, and her eyes take a moment too long to focus. He watches in what feels like physical pain while she plasters a smile onto her face. He knows it’s necessary to keep the press off their backs, but he can't help but hate it when she hides how she’s really feeling. “Sure thing, kitty-cat.”

They jump away from the gathering crowd, camera-shutters crackling behind them. Together, they run across rooftops, veering this way and that until they’re sure no one is following them. There’d been a close call with a drone once that he’s in no hurry to repeat. Sometimes, he really hates technology.

Ladybug ducks through a shattered window into one of their current hide-outs, and he follows her lead. This one is an abandoned factory. Its defining features are rats, sawdust, and sawdust-covered rats. It’s a horrible building, and it’s falling apart at the seams, but their need for a new hide-out every other month has, thus far, outweighed their disgust.

The top level of the building is significantly less dusty than the lower levels, and the two of them had outfitted one of its rooms to be comfortable. They'd spread a few sheets across the wood flooring, and then piled an assortment of blankets and pillows and plushies on top of them. 

They've collected a lot of random plush merchandise over the past few months. Several hideouts ago, Chat had brought a pillow designed to look like Ladybug's yo-yo. The next day, she'd showed up clutching a black cat pillow from home to her chest. Since then, it's been something of a hobby for them to find pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals that are reminiscent of themselves.

A stuffed turtle and fox are also somewhere among the clutter, but a few months back, Ladybug had started to bite her lip whenever she looked at them; Chat decided the best course of action was to bury them under the blankets where they'd be out of sight. Ladybug either hasn’t noticed or likes it that way, so that’s where they’ve remained ever since. There's also a bee plushie with a flower crown, but Ladybug still just rolls her eyes amusedly at that one, eerily similar to her reaction when he’d first brought it, so he's left it unburied.

The only thing that is not soft and squishy is the plastic bin that's pushed slightly to the side of the room. It's full of emergency cheese and cookies for Plagg and Tikki, along with randomly acquired foodstuffs, medical supplies, and water bottles for him and Ladybug. 

The rats that infest the dilapidated building are terrified of Chat Noir, so as long as he visits regularly, the room remains untouched. Plagg says it's a scent thing, which, while that's great for keeping rodents away, he's not exactly thrilled that dogs hate him now. He likes dogs, darn it.

Groaning dramatically, Ladybug flops onto the cushioned ground, limbs landing every which way. Red stains blossom on the sheet under her right arm. She doesn’t notice. “I’m so tired. I was working on a project and lost track of time and suddenly it was morning, I’m so scatter-brained, it’s ridiculous!” She laughs as she says it. It’s a completely reasonable excuse for her odd behavior.

Chat tries not to take offense that she just lied to his face. 

Well, she’s not really even looking at him, so it’s not his face exactly, but the connotations are the same.

He silently kneels down next to her right side. “And I’m sure the blood loss isn’t helping matters either.” Chat lightly brushes his claws over the knuckles of Ladybug’s right hand, and she glances over to see the growing puddle of crimson. Her expression is startled, at first, but melts into complete apathy after a few seconds.

“...oh.” Is all she says, and she tilts her head to the left, avoiding his gaze. She folds in on herself, pulling each of her limbs back towards her body, but she leaves the arm he’s touching where it is. He knows that that’s important. He hopes it means she trusts him, but it could also mean that she’s nervous of how he’d react if she did.

Ladybug suddenly clears her throat and says, in a falsely sunny tone, “I’m sorry. You can go now. Don’t worry, I’ll be better for the next fight; at the, uh, a-at the top of my game, I promise.”

“Ladybug,” he starts to say, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

Won’t happen again, i-in fact, I was exaggerating how bad it was this time, who knows why, really, but I’m sorry for having wasted your time, you can just go,” She pauses, and at his stunned lack of movement, her voice gains a frantic note to it. 

“Seriously, go, I’m fine, you should go, why wouldn’t you, there’s no reason to stay, so go-” Her voice hitches.

Ladybug has moved her arm away from him in order to sit up and curl herself into a ball, starting to rock infinitesimally. 

“Just go, just go, you’re gonna leave so just, just, you should- you, y-you,” her voice dissolves into wheezing and she can’t seem to catch her breath.

That's when she starts crying. Tears trickle down her cheeks and her eyes clamp shut.

“I’m not going anywhere, ‘Bug. I swear.” He moves closer, but, noting her gasping breaths, doesn’t touch her, choosing to instead place one of his hands nearby.

She doesn’t respond verbally, and he would’ve been surprised if she had, in this state. She does, however, make eye contact with him for a moment, a silent plea for help that he’s pretty sure was not a conscious choice. 

“Okay, deep breaths, okay?” He’s never actually helped anyone with a panic attack, but the day that he pieced together that Ladybug had anxiety, he'd immediately begun hours upon hours of research on the best ways to help her. So. Here's hoping he remembers what to do? 

Oh god. What if he can't? What if he makes her feel worse? What if she never feels better? Oh gosh, this is really not a good time to worry about this.

Chat's not completely sure which of them he's talking to when he says, "You need to breathe."

Her eyes are still on him, but she’s shaking and gasping and doesn’t seem to process his words. He can feel himself panicking at her despondency, but forces it down. If he freaks out right now, he’ll only add to her stress. 

“Alright, with me, okay? In,” He breathes in exaggeratedly, mouth open and expanding his ribs as much as he can so that Ladybug can see the movements. She blinks at him uncomprehendingly through her tears. 

“Now out.” He purposefully blows on her face as he exhales. It seems to shock her back to the present a bit, eyes not quite as blank, and he smiles encouragingly at her.

“In…” He says again, and this time, she takes a small shaky breath with him. 

"Out." She manages to exhale as well, filling him with hope.

"In… out. There you go, you've got it... in… out.”

He counts breaths with her for what could be hours, and she improves with each one. Despite how her breaths are evening out, he can tell that the more she regains awareness, the worse she seems to feel. She’s still crying, too.

Ladybug moves one of her hands from where they’ve been clutched together at her chest, placing it atop his own. “...thank you.”

He smiles at her, even though she’s looking down and can’t see it. “No problem at all, milady.” That’s something of a lie. While he doesn’t mind helping her in the slightest, there most definitely is a problem with how she views herself. And he’s going to do everything and anything he can to prove to her that she’s wonderful and deserves the world. No. Multiple worlds. The universe?

Ladybug's still shivering. He grabs the nearest blanket and wraps it around her shoulders like cocoon.

There's a joke there, somewhere… Snug like a bug in a rug? No, it’s not a very rug-like blanket. Hmm, maybe-

Ladybug breaks his train of thought. “Yes, ‘problem at all.’ You shouldn’t have to deal with… all this.” Her free hand flicks to indicate her whole self.

Chat reaches out and takes that hand, too. “But I want to. And you can’t stop me.” He childishly sticks his tongue out at her, and is rewarded with a small huff of amusement.

He adjusts how he's sitting, turning until his shoulders are lined up with hers. She tilts her head into his in response, the top of her hair tickling his jaw. Their hands are still clasped together, and he happily lets her fidget with his fingers. "And you're not a problem." He says, more seriously. "I don't mind helping you, and I never will."

"Okay." Barely audible, even softer than a whisper. It doesn't sound like she really believes it.

"I will always be here for you. Always.” He stresses, nudging her with his shoulder. “I'll help however I can, and if I can't, then I'll figure out how."

She starts crying harder. For a heart-stopping moment, he's terrified he said the wrong thing, but then she sniffs, and squeezes his hands tightly. "Okay."

"You're my best friend, 'Bug, and I'll never ever leave you. I promise."

She freezes, not even breathing.

He definitely just said the wrong thing.

A horribly tense silence ensues. He's too nervous to move away from her, but she doesn't stir either, so it's probably okay?

Finally, she says: "Everyone leaves me."

Chat finds himself too shocked to respond. Luckily, she doesn't seem to expect an answer and continues despite his silence. "They all left me. They were my friends and they just left me. They all believed her stupid lies instead of me, and I've known over half of them for years. Years." Her voice is a quiet monotone.

Ladybug stops talking to turn her face into his neck. Carefully, he removes one of his hands from her grip and starts running his claws through her hair, taking care not to scratch her head. A bit of the tension leaves her shoulders.

When she speaks again, it's muffled. "And now I have to see them every day and pretend that I'm fine, that it doesn't hurt, but it does, it hurts so much, and I'm tired."

He doesn't think there's anything he could possibly say or do that could alleviate the raw pain he hears in her voice. He hugs her anyway. Ladybug doesn't seem to mind, snuggling in as close as she physically can, blanket and all. She's not crying anymore, but it's probably from dehydration rather than any actual improvement in her well-being.

"If they can't see how amazing you are, then that's their problem." Chat says firmly into her hair.

She sighs noncommittally. "But they all left. Doesn't that mean it has to be my fault somehow?"

"Nope. Just means they're all idiots." 

She snorts, shaking her head minutely against his chest. His bell jingles with the movement. She doesn't seem up to talking about it anymore, so he lets it drop. They sit in silence, this one considerably more comfortable than the last. 

Eventually, though, Chat forces himself to break the tranquility. "Now, as your best friend, who, to reiterate, will never stray from your side-"

Ladybug laughs. "Was that a pun?" 

"Purr-haps, milady." He grins. He doesn't need to see her face to know she's rolling her eyes at him.

"But, uh, anyway, am I right in assuming that you didn't bandage your arms?" 

"Um. Maybe." She says. She sounds uncomfortable, but not angry or sad. "Also, I maybe kinda didn't wash or disinfect them, either?"

"LB." He groans, and she leans back so that she can see him.

"My legs are fine, though! I did those this morning." Despite the excuses, she does have the grace to look sheepish.

He raises his eyebrows, and Ladybug adds, "And in my defense, I didn't get to my arms because I was cutting when the akuma attacked, and I didn't get the chance to! I'm not completely irresponsible!"

Chat's about to relent, and then he remembers: "Wait, didn't the akuma attack happen during class hours?"

She opens her mouth to argue, blinks a few times. "Yes… okay, so I said I had to go to the bathroom so I could cut, and then the akuma attacked. But! I got a hall pass, so. Still responsible."

"I don't think that's how that works."

"Can't prove it's not."

"That's an argumentative fallacy, bugaboo."

"Nerd."

"Bad at debating,"

Ladybug swats at him playfully, and he giggles, standing up at the same time. Chat extends a hand to help her up. "Come on, we've got some bandages here."

She looks down at the ground in an attempt to hide her embarrassment, but takes his hand anyway, leaving the blanket on the ground. Ladybug pulls her hand away right after in order to fiddle with one of her pigtails.

He walks -carefully, trying not to trip over pillows- over to the bin, and she follows him at a slight distance, hands on her arms in a protective huddle. Crap. He’s not sure what he can do about that.

For now though, she needs to re-hydrate from crying. Chat pulls out two water bottles and tosses one at Ladybug, which she reflexively catches. She immediately snaps the bottle open and starts drinking. He sets the other bottle down and keeps digging through the bin (they really need to organize this thing) and eventually finds a first aid kit and two hand towels.

Ladybug has sat back down on the padded floor, a plush cat in her lap. It's grey, not black, but it's the only one they've found so far with a plush bell around its neck. She's feeling at the back of her suit collar, where the zipper is. She does, apparently, have one, but the beginning is hidden on the inside of her suit and the rest of it doesn't appear until it's pulled on. A weird use for magic, but he's the one with cat ears, so he probably shouldn't judge.

Chat sits next to her and sets the supplies down. There's a click when she gets the zipper to work, and he focuses on sorting through the kit to give her some privacy. 

"Alright." Ladybug says, and he looks up to see that: one, the top half of her suit is pooled around her waist and isn't that a strange sight, like a deflated balloon; and two, she has a black blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. Upon closer inspection, he realizes it's one of their weighted blankets. It's the heaviest kind possible- weighted blankets made for their weight don't help much when they're in their superhero forms.

Hesitantly, she extends her right arm towards him.

Chat really does try not to wince, but she sees it anyway and looks away. 

Her arm is… a mess. Dried blood cakes her skin completely. There are wounds on every part of her arm and more leading up to where her shoulder is covered by the blanket.

Chat takes a deep breath to steel himself. She's not in danger. She's here. She wasn't trying to kill herself. She knows what she's doing.

His eyes flicker towards her, and he hates how anxious she looks, but he doesn't know how to comfort her in a situation like this. She's gnawing on her lip, and anxiety is written in her every movement. She goes to retract her arm, and without thinking, he reaches out and grabs her hand, the only part of her arm he can touch without hurting her.

Ladybug stops dead at the contact, and he wants to let go to make her more comfortable but instead seizes the opportunity to snatch up the water-soaked towel he'd prepared and press it against her wrist. She winces, but relaxes a second later, arm going limp in his grip. She leans in a bit to watch him work, petting the stuffed cat in her lap with her free hand.

Slowly, Chat starts washing off the dried blood. She grimaces every now and then, but never pulls away from him.

A few cuts reopen and start bleeding sluggishly when he dabs at them with the towel, and he jerks the cloth away in a panic. He looks up, apologies on the tip of his tongue, and notices that Ladybug doesn't seem worried in the slightest.

She makes a soothing motion at him with her other hand. "It's okay, you can keep going, they'll stop soon."

He's still distressed, but takes her word for it and continues cleaning. The more blood he mops up, the more her old scars become visible, stark lines of pink and white against the rest of her skin. "You seem pretty calm about this, considering, you know. The bleeding."

"The bleeding is the least freaky part of this, honestly." Ladybug laughs nervously. She adjusts her makeshift blanket-shawl so he can get to her shoulder.

Chat tilts his head questioningly, and she says, "No one's ever done this for me before. No one else knows about it, even. And. I'm afraid. That you might... try to make me stop."

His cat ears flatten involuntarily and she hurriedly amends, "Not that I'm afraid of you or think you'll hurt me! I'd never think that, kitten."

He relaxes and smiles at her. "Then..?"

Ladybug sighs, leaning back slightly to look at the ceiling."I don't know, I guess it's kinda like, you know how someone can mean well but still do something awful? Someone could just try to make me promise to stop and I'd probably agree, but I'd hate it. And it wouldn't solve anything, in the long run.” She frowns. “And definitely not in the short run, either.”

Ah, meaning well and doing something awful. Sounds like someone he knows. "I'd never do something like that to you, I promise." He pauses, letting go of her hand. "Other arm, please?" 

She obliges. Her left arm isn't nearly as bad as her right was, the cuts stopping at her elbow and with significantly less dried blood. 

Chat chooses his next words carefully. "I would like it if you stopped, but I know it's not that simple." 

"No," she agrees, slowly. "It's not that simple."

"But you could talk to me about it, if you want. And I can help distract you, when you feel like doing it."

She stares at him. "I can't ask that of you, Chat."

He smiles. "You're not asking. I'm offering." 

The blood-soaked towel is tossed aside, and he picks up the other towel and douses it with disinfectant. He takes Ladybug's right arm again and starts the same process over again. She hisses through her teeth at the sting but gestures for him to keep going. "Still though, kitty. That's too much. If I called you every time I wanted to hurt myself, you'd never get a break from me." She says it jokingly, but there's an undercurrent of bitterness that makes him sad.

"Sounds like a dream come true, bugaboo!" He winks at her and she rolls her eyes, smiling as she does so.

"But… I see your point. I wouldn't want to ask that of you, either." He admits. 

He ponders on it for a few minutes, switching to work on her left arm.

"How about this," Chat says eventually. "Two times a week, you can call me so I that I can help you. No guilt required, even if it's the middle of the night! And we'll still have our regular patrols and meet-ups that we can talk during, too."

Ladybug hums, evaluating the idea. He feels like his heart is in his throat.

"...Okay, agreed." She says, finally, and he can't help a small sigh of relief. "On one condition." She adds, pointing a finger at his smiling face.

"You name it, milady." He lets go of her arm and sets the second towel with the first.

She smirks in triumph. "You accept the same deal- two times a week where you can, guilt free, tell me about your problems."

Chat opens his mouth to protest, and she quickly says, "You said to name it! You technically already agreed!"

He stares at her, astonished. Then, he grumbles, "if you were the villain, the heroes would totally have lost by now."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." Ladybug says primly, shoving her arms back into her sleeves and getting to her feet. She waves a hand blindly behind her back to find her zipper again.

Chat snorts and stands up with her, kicking the towels into the corner of the room. They usually wash everything whenever they switch hideouts anyway.

Ladybug gives him a disapproving look, but doesn’t comment on it. "Let's not bother with bandages, I hate how they feel, and these cuts aren't deep enough to need them anyways." 

He nods and packs up the kit, placing it back in the bin and resealing the lid. Ladybug goes to set the stuffed cat down, pauses, then carefully sets the plushie among the blankets, adjusting a few so that the cat will be warm. It's adorable, but Chat doesn't want to embarrass her by commenting on it, so he just smiles to himself and pretends to look at something fascinating in the other direction.

His eyes end up landing on the boarded-up window, from which the sky outside is visible. He can't see the sun from this angle, but judging by the amber light flooding the room, it's about sunset. 

They need to stagger their departures for the secrecy of their hideout to remain intact. Ladybug offers to let him go first, but he waves her off. It'll be dark soon, and the black of his suit will make him practically invisible. Chat mentions that to her, and she reluctantly agrees.

She steps forward, extending her arms for a hug, pauses, glances at her arms, and settles for patting him on the shoulder instead. “Thanks, Chat.” 

He smiles whole-heartedly at her. “Anytime.” 

Ladybug turns away and jumps out the window.

He's missed the last hour of school and his entire fencing lesson. Hopefully, the school will ignore his absence because of the akuma attack, and his fencing instructor won't call Natalie.

Whether or not he gets in trouble for this, though, he won't care. His partner will always come first.

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy you made it to the end, thanks for reading <3
> 
> please tell me your thoughts! about the story or just about anything! you can tell me about how your day's going if you want!


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